


the stars in the sky can fall for you night and day (but they're not gonna fall for you like I do)

by undisclosed_desires



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Chicago Blackhawks, Los Angeles Kings, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undisclosed_desires/pseuds/undisclosed_desires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How something so wrong lead to something so right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> \- I know this pairing is random as all hell, but they're one of my favourites! I hope you all will like them too  
> \- The title of this fic are lyrics from the song "Your Song" by Thornley  
> Warning: Jarret Stoll as a sex slave .. Patrick Sharp as his knight in shining armour

**Preface**

The hotel room was dark, only a dim glow of light shone through the windows from the building across the street. 

Patrick took a slow, cautious step towards Jarret who was standing in front of the counter. 

Jarret eyed Patrick’s every move, like he was ready at any moment to have to bolt or fight Patrick off.

It sickened Patrick to think of why Jarret was always so cautious in situations like this, that people had actually taken advantage of him before. 

He’d known why they did it - Jarret was just .. perfect. There wasn’t really any other way of describing him. He was beyond good looking to Patrick, skin lightly tanned from the California sun, body perfectly shaped and chiseled from hockey, and a face that made Patrick’s knees week. 

In the time that they’d known each other, Patrick had become fascinated with Jarret. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t think about him, worry about him and where he was and who he might be with. 

He wanted so bad to protect Jarret, to just take him in his arms and never let him go. Tell Jarret that he was there and that no one was ever going to hurt him ever again. 

Patrick couldn’t do that though. Jarret didn’t belong to Patrick, he _belonged_ to someone else. It almost made Patrick sick with envy.

As he starred at Jarret in that moment though, everything inside of Patrick softened. Although he knew he couldn’t have Jarret, he could still be there for him. 

“Jare ..” Patrick started, paused when Jarret swallowed at the nickname. 

“What ..” Patrick continued, studying Jarret’s face “ .. what if I cared about you?”

Jarret’s face never changed, he just continued starring at Patrick through big, unaware eyes, unsure of what to think of what Patrick had just said. 

Patrick bit his lip as a lump in his throat began to grow. It wasn’t like him to be nervous in these types of situations .. however, he’d never quite been in a situation like this before. 

“Like .. uhm,” was Patrick sweating? He’d known what he wanted to ask Jarret, but he was having some difficulty getting the words out in real life.

Patrick took a deep breath, “have you ever been with anyone who actually cared about you?”

Something in Jarret changed then, but it wasn’t the reaction that Patrick had been looking for. 

Jarret had been in a few different consentual relationships that Patrick had known about. He knew that Jarret had dated a model, an actress, and sports news anchor. They were all beautiful and Jarret had seemed happy with them.

The look in Jarret’s eyes, however, did not seem reminiscent of happy memories. The look that he was giving Patrick cut straight through Patrick’s heart and came back around to cut through his lungs and stomach too. 

The emotion of hurt was so prominent in Jarret that he looked as though he might cry. Patrick knew he wouldn’t though, Jarret was too strong for that.

It was too much for Patrick to take, any restraint he had previously set for himself was lost as he stepped forward and closed the gap between him and Jarret. He stopped once in arms reach to place his hands gently on either side of Jarret’s waist.

Jarret still never said a word, just let out a small gasp of breath at Patrick’s movement and gentle touch on his waist, like he was holding him up. 

Patrick looked deeply into Jarret’s eyes then, caught up once again in just how attractive Jarret was, especially up close. 

Patrick kept waiting for Jarret to react, to push him away or tell him to let go .. but he never did. The pain behind Jarret’s eyes was still there, but it was as if he wanted Patrick there, wanted to know what Patrick was going to do, and maybe even trusted Patrick having his hands on him, just a little. Patrick had come in so close, and Jarret was letting him. 

The fact that Jarret had not answered his question, had given Patrick his answer, and it was not okay.

Patrick slowly moved his hand up to cradle the side of Jarret’s face, which was answered by another small breath, almost moan of air from Jarret.

“Please, let me show you ..” and with a heartbeat faster than the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Patrick kissed Jarret’s lips. 

This wasn’t the first time they’d kissed, although it almost felt like it to Patrick. The taste on Jarret’s lips was so good to Patrick that he couldn’t help but do it again, breaking apart after just a second to see if this was okay with Jarret. 

Jarret had moved for the first time since this had started, his hand had made it’s way up to grab the fabric of Patrick’s shirt at Patrick’s waist. 

Patrick wasn’t sure if Jarret was fisting his shirt to pull him closer or in preparation to shove him away, but either way, Jarret was just kind of holding it, showing no other sign of wanting or not wanting what Patrick was doing. 

If he was more in control of himself, Patrick would have stopped there and talked to Jarret. But he wasn’t, and right now Jarret was letting him in his space, letting him put his hands on him and kiss his lips, and Patrick was dammed if he was going to stop or let go. 

So he kissed Jarret again, harder this time, feeling Jarret’s grip on his shirt tighten and mouth give in and move with Patrick’s. 

To say it gave Patrick shivers would be an understatement. The way their mouths were moving together was so perfectly in-sync that it made Patrick feel as though he had never been properly kissed in his life before. 

Still keeping his one hand on Jarret’s face, he slid the other one from Jarret’s waist to rest on his lower back, pulling him in closer to Patrick’s body, when Jarret suddenly broke the kiss. 

“Patrick,” Jarret breathed out, taking a step back to re-create some space between them. 

It made Patrick’s heart stop, had he gone too far? Ruined his chance with Jarret forever?

“Patrick I can’t,” Jarret let out, sounding broken and almost like a sob, “please, I can’t .. you can’t do this to me.” 

Jarret really did look like he might cry then, fist still full of Patrick’s shirt as he looked at him through pleading, almost scared eyes. 

Patrick just couldn’t let go, not now, not after what had just happened between them. Jarret must have felt it too, how could he not have?

“Jare -” Patrick had urgency and question in his voice, “I would never .. wha, what do you mean?” He didn’t understand, he wanted to show Jarret something that he’d never had before, something that he knew he could give Jarret, something that not anyone else could give him because he knew about Jarret, knew why he was the way he is, and others didn’t. 

“You can’t .. can’t pretend to care about me like this,” Jarret continued, a painful broken-ness in his voice that killed Patrick, “please don’t do this to me.”

The hurt that Patrick had felt before was nothing like what he was feeling now. The way Jarret was practically begging him not to falsely lead him on, it was too much for Patrick to take. It was the exact opposite of what Patrick was trying to accomplish. 

Patrick knew that it was now or never to say the things he’d been wanting to say for some time now. The way Jarret had started to almost tremble in front of him was the last straw, he would never let Jarret feel like this ever again, if he could help it.

“Jarret, I’m not pretending.” He said it softly, yet firmly .. wanting, _needing_ Jarret to understand, to believe him. 

He touched his fingers to Jarret’s chin then, lifted his face up tenderly so Jarret was looking into Patrick’s eyes, the hurt still evident in his.

“Don’t you know?” Patrick said softly, voice full of affection, “I’m in love with you Jarret Stoll.”

Patrick couldn't help but smile as he said it, he’d know his true feelings for Jarret for some time now, but he’d never said it aloud before. It felt amazing to finally let it out, like part of him being in love with Jarret was Jarret actually knowing that he was. 

Jarret’s expression changed, the hurt that had been behind his eyes for so long now, had finally softened. “Patrick ..” Jarret whispered, body locked in place by Patrick’s words.

Patrick was still smiling, still not done talking. “I know you can’t trust me ..” Patrick continued, “ and I don’t expect you to. But I just need you to know why I’m here, and why I’ll always be here .. if you let me be.” 

Patrick could see the longing in Jarret now, could see that he wanted to trust Patrick so bad but just couldn’t .. not yet, anyways. He’d been so hurt by people before that Patrick didn’t know if it’d be possible for Jarret to ever fully trust Patrick or anyone ever again. But this - letting Jarret know - this was the first step in trying. 

Where his spurt of confidence came from, Patrick wasn’t entirely sure, but the words were all coming out now. Maybe it was because it was all just so right to Patrick, like he always knew they were supposed to be together and this is the point where it was finally happening. 

“You’ve been treated like shit for far too long now, and you have to understand that I would never, _ever_ do _anything_ to hurt you, I promise you that Jare. I just .. I want to love you so much. Will you please .. Jare .. will you please let me love you?” 

Patrick had moved his face right back close into Jarret’s, taking a step forward so they were closer together again.

“Please .. please” Patrick whispered as he moved, cradling Jarret’s face again and rubbing small, comforting circles on Jarret’s waist with his other hand. 

When Jarret gave in to Patrick it was amazing. Jarret’s arms wrapped around Patrick’s neck as he crashed their lips together, setting off a frantic session of deep, passionate kisses that made Patrick’s head spin. 

As they kissed and grabbed at each other, Patrick backed Jarret to the counter behind him and lifted him so he was sitting up on the counter with Patrick standing between his legs which hung over the ledge. 

They kissed for so long that Patrick’s jaw actually became sore, neither one wanting to stop or let go of the other. 

Patrick was completely lost in Jarret, the way that everything was happening was just so damn perfect he felt like he might be the one to cry now. The way Jarret kissed Patrick back, the way his body felt to Patrick as his hands wandered over his clothed torso, it was all so surreal; almost too perfect to be real. 

When they had no other choice but to stop kissing and catch their breaths, Patrick pulled Jarret into a tight hug, melting all over again when it was reciprocated ten-fold by Jarret, who felt more like he was clinging to Patrick for dear life.

“I’m gonna be so good to you” Patrick murmured into Jarret’s ear, “you’re not going to hurt anymore, okay?” It was less of a question and more of a statement, but Jarret breathed out an “okay” in reply that made it all official. 

Overcome with affection, Patrick knew the life he had just chosen. 

Jarret was his life now. 


	2. Chapter 2

“That’s right .. ah fuck yeah” he sighed out between heavy breaths, one hand firmly gripping the back of Jarret’s head to guide him as he sucked the larger man off. 

Jarret worked his practiced lips over the man in a way he knew would both drive him crazy and make him lose control faster than he wanted to. Although each man was different, most of them liked the same thing from a blowjob - Jarret had learned how to start, where to proceed, and how to finish off even the most self-controlled man in order to spend the least amount of time possible having his throat unwillingly thrusted into.

Jarret’s throat started to feel the familiar, stinging burn as the man forced himself further inside, completely blocking off his air supply as he neared his grande finale. 

There wasn’t much Jarret could do but relax his throat, hold his breath, and continue to move his tongue as best he could so the man would get off and pull out from down his throat. So that’s what he did, kneeling between the man’s legs, hands tied behind his back as the man sat on the couch above him, holding Jarret’s head in place. 

Just when his eyes started to tear up from the lack of oxygen, the man pulled out and with a large grunt came, shooting ropes of thick white liquid across Jarret’s face and naked, bare chest as he breathed in deep, relieving breaths. 

“Fuck you have a dirty mouth” the man said, tired out as he sat back and watched Jarret take in fast, deep breaths below him, covered in his cum. 

“Lookit you ..” he said after a few minutes of starring. Jarret had gained back control of his breathing and was starring blankly at the couch in front of him, waiting for what would happen next.

“It’s like you were fuckin’ made to be covered in my cum.” He sat forward and dragged his hand across the mess on Jarret’s chest, smearing the sticky liquid so it now completely covered his upper chest. He cupped Jarret’s chin and tilted his head up so Jarret had to look him straight in the face.

The man wasn’t bad looking. He had messy, dark brown hair with eyes even darker as he starred down at Jarret, who was still situated between his legs. He was slightly taller and more built than Jarret, body rippling with large muscles that indicated that his free time was most likely spent constantly working out or ingesting a pharmacy of various steroids. His skin was tanning-booth orangey/brown and warm to the touch where he came in contact with Jarret. 

“Such a pretty one you are” the man laughed as he grasped the lower part of Jarret’s face. He rubbed his thumb in circles over Jarret’s skin, again rubbing in the mess to effectively cover more of his face. 

When he stopped he stuck his messy fingers into Jarret’s mouth, prompting him to suck them clean. “Clean em up good.”

Jarret did what he was told, sucked the dried, sticky substance clean off the man’s hands because he had no other choice. If he managed to piss this guy off at all, he’d be in trouble by his owner who had a short temper and wasn’t afraid to pass him around his other, much rougher wealthy clients as punishment. 

“Atta boy” the man said, as Jarret finished. The man stood up and pushed Jarret back by his shoulders, knocking him to the floor so he lied there, hands tied under him, covered in cum, looking up at the ceiling to avoid the man’s gaze. 

“Don’t even fuckin’ think about moving” and Jarret obeyed as the man stepped over him and disappeared down the hallway. Although he had no idea where the guy went, Jarret felt slightly relieved to be left alone for the few minutes. He wiggled his fingers and sore wrists underneath him as the rope tied around them was tight, slowly rubbing away at his skin and cutting off circulation. He knew they’d be marked up by the time he left .. he would have to think of something to say when people asked about the marks. That was nothing new, and being a professional hockey player made it easy to bluff off the marks his buyers had left on him. 

Jarret heard a door close in the background and his stomach tensed up as he heard the footsteps of the man walking back into the room. 

In a swift motion he had crossed over to Jarret, gotten to his knees, forced Jarret’s legs apart, and thrown them over his shoulders. He fucked Jarret like that, deep and hard with no lube or protection in the middle of his living room floor. 

There was a time that Jarret would have cried out in pain, but after being handled this roughly by the few different men he’d been sold out to, he’d grown used to the pain. So he laid there in silence, still starring at the ceiling as the man fucked into him, breathing hard and grunting with each thrust. 

He pulled out temporarily to flip Jarret onto his stomach, pull his hips into the air, and thrust inside him again, pumping faster than he had before, driving Jarret’s face down into the carpet. 

He didn’t last long before he pulled out and covered Jarret’s back in mess again, moaning loudly in ecstasy as he came. 

When he was fished, the man let out a satisfied grunt and slapped Jarret hard across his ass cheek before hauling him up to his knees in front of him. The man wrapped his arms around Jarret’s waist and grasped his hard, throbbing dick in a tight, painful grip.

He started pumping Jarret then, slow and tight which drove him crazy. He wanted to stay quiet so badly but his dick had been throbbing since the first time the man had fucked him on the couch earlier in the afternoon. He let out a mangled moan and focussed on keeping control as the man had told him to not cum until he said it was okay.

The man breathed across Jarret’s neck and bit his ear before murmuring to him.

“I know you want to cum now, Jarret. But you have to do one more thing for me” he started, hand still pumping Jarret at a maddingly slow pace.

“Tell me who you belong to .. tell me who has control over you.” He punctuated the order by biting down on Jarret’s neck.

Jarret tried so hard to hold back the moans but he was exhausted from the afternoon and another slipped through his lips. He hated the satisfaction he knew he was giving the man, could sense the smug smirk on his face from driving Jarret to this point.

“Tell me Jarret, or you’re not going to cum.”

Defeated and desperate, Jarret gave the man what he wanted. “You” he answered, voice still hoarse from the blowjob he gave. 

“Fuckin’ right, now scream my name as you cum.”

And Jarret did, moaning as he was finally allowed to release his agony.

The relief of finally letting go made it hard for Jarret to continue sitting up straight as the man let go of him and untied his hands from behind his back.

“Worth every fucking dollar you are” he murmured and slapped Jarret’s ass again, before standing up and walking back across the room, turning to look back at Jarret who remained on his knees in the middle of the floor.

“Same time next week” he told Jarret. “Now get the fuck out of my house before my girl gets back.”

And he left, slamming the door behind him.

Fighting his exhaustion, Jarret got up, found his clothing that had earlier been torn off of him and left the house as fast as he could, relieved that another nightmare had ended. 

~ ~ ~

The first thing Jarret did when he reached his home in Los Angeles was tear off his dirty clothes and jump into the shower. The dried cum on his skin had become hardened and sticky and made Jarret feel dirtier than ever. He did his best to avoid looking at himself in the mirror before jumping into the shower but it was something that no matter how hard he tried, he always ended up sneaking a peak at himself.

The skin around his wrists where the rope had been was red and black, cut open in a few places from the friction. He’d briefly seen two bruises on his back and felt one developing on the side of his rib cage. The marks on his skin were not so much of an issue, but his lower back had been killing him since he left the man’s house. It made getting undressed uncomfortable but there was nothing he wanted more than to clean himself off. 

He stood in the burning hot shower for a long time, letting it cleanse off his skin. He scrubbed himself off with soap so many times that he lost count, like he was trying to wash away every memory of this day and the days like this before it. By the time he finished, his skin was red and wrinkled. 

Getting dressed again was another painful affair so he decided to wear pajamas so he wouldn't have to dress again until the next morning. 

Unable to manage the back pain that was gradually getting worse as he moved around, he grabbed tylenol and an ice pack and tried to lay down to rest and watch tv, hoping to deter his mind from thinking about the day.

He’d been forced into being a sex slave for two years now. In that time they’d sold him to 24 different men for use. His job was to meet up with them and do exactly what they’d asked and paid him for. 

There were rules, of course. The men were never allowed to actually hurt him, only use him for pleasure. They also weren’t supposed to leave marks on him, not that they didn’t do it anyways. 

Some of the men were kind, gentle, simply looking for someone to pleasure them, obviously hiding the fact they were into men from the rest of the world. Others, however, were rough, dominant and made him do things that still gave him nightmares from time to time. 

The man today had not been so bad, compared to many others before him. Having his hands tied was nothing new to him - many men liked Jarret that way, restrained and at their fullest mercy. If his sex life had not turned into this Jarret may have actually been into things like that. 

Jarret starred blankly at the tv, trying not to think about his day or the soreness that had spread across his entire body. It didn’t really work though .. no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get the man’s face out of his head. He found his thoughts constantly being distracted by it. 

Since the television was doing pretty much nothing to make him feel better, Jarret decided to make his way to bed instead, relying on sleep to quiet his mind and heal the pain. 

Moving wasn’t such a good idea, though. 

It took longer than it should have for Jarret to sit up. The pain in his back had subsided a bit, the combination of medication and rest had made it at least bearable. But once he had gotten himself into a sitting position, it all came rushing back, starting from his bottom and spreading up his spine, right to the sore spot on his neck where the man had bitten him. 

He let out a cry of pain, pushing his hips forward to relieve the pressure on his back. It was the least he could do to prevent himself from actually crying.

Crying never helps. He knew this, knew it more than anything that feeling sorry for himself wasn’t going to make anything better, wouldn’t make it all go away. Yet when he had to return home every time, shower off, deal with the pain, try to forget everything and pretend like nothing was wrong .. he just felt so damn alone, so empty. 

He’d known for a while now that people only truly like him for his image. Millions of people like him because he plays for the LA Kings, teammates like him because he was part of the team and they had no choice, girls like him because he’s a professional hockey player, and men like him because he’s good at getting them off. Besides his family, who could never know what’s happening, there was no one there to truly love him, not just for being all of those things but for simply who he was.

Even Erin Andrews, the hot news reporter he’d been dating for a while now, didn’t and couldn’t know about his predicament. He didn’t get to see her that often anyways, and when he did, he wasn’t so sure the relationship was not just about him having a perfect, muscular body and a multi-million dollar professional job. They’d talked a lot, him and Erin, but they didn’t have much in common so the large majority of their relationship was based off of sex. 

Jarret couldn’t say that his heart was in it either though, a lot of the time he needed the intimacy with Erin to forget about the nights he had to spend in a stranger’s bed. She’d become somewhat of an escape and it was nice to have sex with a woman every now and then. 

Feeling alone and miserable, Jarret braced himself for pain and stood up. The change in position had surprisingly made him feel a little better, so he grabbed more pain medication and headed upstairs to bed.

Sleep, however, had become a whole other huge issue in his life. Ever since he had started being sold to men, he’d had problems falling and staying asleep at night. Disturbing reenactments taunted his thoughts and managed to make their way into his dreams in the night, making him wake up shaking and in a cold sweat with the inability to fall back asleep.

He sat awake for many nights, lying awake in bed or starring out the window. Some nights he didn’t even bother trying to sleep at all. Instead he’d go for a walk down the beach, listening to the sound of the ocean and its waves as they crashed against the shore. 

It was better when he had someone to sleep with. Whenever Erin stayed over he was able to fall asleep a lot easier, somehow feeling miraculously better when someone was holding onto him, even though he knew that she didn’t really love him the way he so desperately needed.

Jarret lied down cautiously, trying his best to spread his weight out evenly and avoid the sharp sensations of pain that were aching to surface with his every movement. 

Before shutting off the light, Jarret reached into his bedside table and pulled out a 3/4 empty mickey of whiskey and drained the rest of it, choking on the firey strong, familiar taste that burned his throat as it went down. 

It didn’t take long to fall asleep after that. The combination of pain medication, strong liquor, and exhaustion took him over mercifully.

The last thing Jarret thought about before sleep took him, was the feeling of being in someone’s arms.


End file.
